Inventing Shadows
by LiesAndLiars
Summary: Fleur Delacour has begun life anew and is trying to repair all the broken pieces. However, will the one person she needs to turn her life around be there to help?  OOC.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey there. So, I've never written anything like this before. I'm trying out different writing styles so, bear with me, yeah? This is my first fan fiction of this kind and I really hope I can get it right. This is really an experiment so depending on the response I'll continue or not. :] So let me know, ya?

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><p><em>.<em>

_Maybe I'm crazy__  
><em>_Maybe you're crazy__  
><em>_Maybe we're crazy__  
><em>_Probably_

_-'Crazy', Gnarls Barkley_

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><p>.<p>

**Chapter 1: Crazy**

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Destiny, that unknown force which supposedly lead you in the direction you were meant to take in life. It accounts for every action, every word and every look. If something good happens, it is due to destiny. If something bad happens, it is destiny's fault.

In Greek mythology, there were three Fates that controlled a person's life. Three days after a child was born the Moirae (Fates) would show up to determine what kind of life that child would lead. They were always depicted as cold, unfeeling and remorseless.

In religion, fate was personified by God or by multiple gods. God's will created all things and caused all things to happen to his subjects. No single person seemed to be responsible for their actions or the things that happened to them.

But where was the individual's choice in all of this? Was destiny actually an individual's decision of what happens next?

Fleur Delacour did not know the answer to the questions, but they haunted her daily. Did the elder Delacour daughter end up in her troublesome predicament through fate? Choice? Or by some god playing a bad joke on her?

She had yet to figure it out.

The blonde part-veela stared out her window to watch the rain drop to Earth in its magnificent way, mulling the questions over in her mind. The window seat gave her an ample view of the grounds of Hogwarts, with an especially pleasing view of the lake. One of the few things she was enjoying about living in at Hogwarts.

The rain pelted against her window in the familiar pattern that soothed her. Her shoulders began to relax and she sighed with contentment. Because of the way almost every male and many females saw her, Fleur was known for being an airhead, a flirt and flamboyant. Few people saw her other side and Fleur wanted to keep it that way.

Fleur continued to stare out her window with a look of longing. The rain was so tempting, inviting her to go outside and stand under the drops of cool water. Destiny, fate, the words were so foreign but they attracted her thoughts like a wand to its owner. Was destiny playing some cruel trick on her? Why had she fallen for one who would never feel the same about her? Why was she now setting out to woo one of the few people who hated her? How could one accomplish such an endeavor?

And when did she become so damn pessimistic?

A growl of frustration bubbled up in her throat as she tried to focus on her situation with a certain curly-haired witch—the maddening situation that was consuming the blonde's very life. When had life and love become so difficult?

It had been two years, five months and six days since Fleur had treated Hermione at Shell Cottage. It had been five years, ten months and ten days since Fleur had first seen the brunette (not that she was counting). For five years, ten months and ten days she had had to live with a secret that was destroying her soul and her sanity. For five years, she had been forced to put aside her own love in order to help others.

Why did she do it to herself?

It was a question her parents, sister and everyone who knew her well asked. Why was she choosing to allow her heart (and her sanity) to suffer? In all honesty, Fleur didn't have a reasonable answer herself.

That was what she kept telling herself.

Damn the veela blood coursing through her veins. Damn the fact that she couldn't love like any other human being. And damn the fact that she couldn't have been happy with Bill Weasley no matter how much she wanted to. They had parted ways as very good friends, but it had made for quite the scandal.

The separation had happened when Fleur had received a wake up call about her false love for the red-headed werewolf. She had tried convincing herself for three years that he was the one. That he was her destined mate and that she wouldn't be happy with anyone else. Of course her family, her veela ancestry and even Bill himself at times would hint, tell her out right or scream it in her face that he wasn't the one (Bill was never one to tell her out right or scream anything.).

When Bill decided to finally act on the lack of complete and utter love and devotion, their marriage went downhill. Rather than be a coward and hide from the truth, Fleur had told him everything and they remained together for a little while longer, restoring their friendship. When they announced the divorce to both families, the reactions were so entirely different it would have made the divorcees laugh, had it not been a serious issue.

Fleur let out another soft sigh and rested her cheek against the window, relishing the feel of the cold glass against her cheek.

Her mind began to wander yet again and she couldn't remember a time when she had been so completely distracted by her own thoughts. However, it was beginning to happen more and more as of late and it wasn't something she was enjoying very much.

She knew she should do something, get out of her head before her thoughts were dragged back to the painful subject she tried to avoid. Fleur knew she should be writing lesson plans or replying to a letter from Gabrielle. As much as she wanted to, however, she couldn't drag herself off of the seat that held her so lovingly. Her eyes fluttered shut and she inhaled and exhaled deeply. Then before she knew it, she was gone to the waking world and had stepped into a world of dreams.

_Knock, knock_. Fleur's eyes snapped open and scrambled to stand up straight, gasping with pain as her joints refused to obey her. Luckily her moments of ungainliness generally happened when she was alone. Cursing herself in French for staying in one position for too long, the blonde witch headed for the door. She passed by a window and cursed again when she saw that it was dark out—although the rain was still falling.

Recently, exhaustion had become an unwelcome companion that stayed with her no matter how long she slept. A problem she had yet to figure out how to solve (an addition to the many already present).

The knocks came again, louder and more persistently this time. "Coming!" Fleur called. Her accent had calmed down considerably over the years she had spent with Bill and she could even pronounce the letter h—something she was quite proud of.

"Minerva, what a surprise! I wasn't expecting anyone to visit me for a while," a bittersweet smile crossed her face with the confession. She had no friends with in the staff at Hogwarts and she wasn't expecting any of her family or Bill anytime soon.

The older woman smiled briskly, "I came to see how you were doing. I wanted to see if you needed any assistance with your… condition," she said delicately, as if unsure how to proceed.

Fleur laughed quietly and shook her head, "I am fine Mademoiselle McGonagall. Really, there is no need to worry about me. I will not die of exhaustion despite what many might think. Although I do appreciate you coming out here," she said lightly, carelessly, as if her "condition" really did not matter. Though she was inwardly wondering why the headmistress of Hogwarts would personally come and check up on her. Madame Pomfrey was certainly just as capable, if not more so with her knowledge of ailments.

"Well that is good to know. It's just that I received an owl from your mother that she is concerned about you," the Headmistress disclosed, causing Fleur to turn red.

"Ah, well you know mothers. They can worry quite needlessly sometimes," she replied nervously, wondering how in the hell any of this had happened. It was unusual to say in the least that McGonagall herself would come check up on Fleur on a random day of the week at some hour in the night. Even more unusual was her mother sending a letter to McGonagall. Fleur's hand tightened on the door knob as she thought about what her mother could have written to McGonagall that would send her out and why she had written it.

The Headmistress cleared her throat and Fleur realized that they were still in the doorway. She let out a sound of embarrassement and beckoned for McGonagall to come inside. Once they were both in, with the door shut Fleur quickly lit a fire in the fireplace and led the older woman to sit down.

"I take it there is another reason you're here, no?" Fleur asked, seating herself across from McGonagall. Absently, as if the action wasn't really intended to warm her up, she rubbed her arms against the cold that had invaded her clothing. The other woman, whom Fleur had always seen sitting or standing ramrod straight, leaned back against the cushion of the couch. An act that was highly unusual and worried Fleur.

"Yes, in fact, I had been thinking about this ever since you told me about your predicament," she sighed and Fleur looked on in confusion, "Fleur, Hermione Granger is going to be coming back to the school to teach."

The younger woman froze, all reality melting away but the two words. That name, the one she had refused to even think for over a year. The name that had haunted her for five long years and made her want to tear her hair out. Surely she had heard wrong (right) and it was a different name (not possible).

"I'm sorry?" her tone was disbelieving, but she knew what the answer would be so she was not surprised when McGonagall gave her a sour look.

"Since Hogwarts closed down last year for repairs, it gave me more time to look for a Transfiguration professor. I had already gotten you to be my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor when Hermione contacted me and asked for a job here. Therefore I gave her the Transfiguration class. After all she was always quite a talented witch. I will still be helping her of course."

So she had known. McGonagall had known for a while that Hermione would be teaching with Fleur. She had known for about the same time she had known about Fleur's condition. Fleur ended up putting two and five together and came up with the letter being the push McGonagall needed to actually tell Fleur about it.

"But you knew about my condition…?" The words were quiet and strained, spoken around thoughts that where whirling inside her head.

"Yes, but I did not know how severe it was until the letter," the older woman explained, confirming for Fleur that two and five did in fact equal seven.

"I see," her voice was still soft and the headmistress leaned forward slightly, looking worried. Fleur smiled wanly and cleared her throat, "Where are my manners? Can I offer you anything to drink? Tea? Something stronger?" she asked, making as if to get up. Exhaustion tugged at her muscles, however, trying to hold her back. Fleur sighed inwardly with relief when McGonagall shook her head and smiled tightly.

"I'm afraid I cannot stay, it's getting late and I have some business to attend to before tomorrow," she replied, standing up briskly and heading to the door. Fleur made to get up again, "No need to see me out, Fleur. I know where the door is and you need your rest. She is arriving tomorrow, in case you were wondering," the door slammed shut after her last words and Fleur jumped.

She couldn't believe this was happening. Everything that had just occurred within the last few minutes circled her mind in an endless loop. Nothing made sense and Fleur was positive she was going crazy.

After a few minutes of sitting down with her mind battling between trying to figure out what had just happened and exhaustion kicking in, exhaustion finally won out. With a groan of effort Fleur got up and slowly made her way to the bedroom. Once there she undressed, threw on a nightgown and collapsed on the bed.

She was going to need all the sleep she could get.


	2. Chapter 2: Falling

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_A/N: Hey. Sorry it took me so long to get this out. I've been busy with a ton of shit recently. This is the second chapter of the experimental story. I hope you like it. It's a little rough because I was in a bit of a rush to get it out, but I'll be going through it to make sure it's good. Again, let me know what you think. :]_

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><p><em>.<em>

_I've fallen out of favour,_ a_nd I've fallen from grace_  
><em>Fallen out of trees,<em> a_nd I've fallen on my face_  
><em>Fallen out of taxis,<em> o_ut of windows too_  
><em>Fell in your opinion<em> w_hen I fell in love with you_

_-'Falling' Florence + the Machine_

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**Chapter 2: Falling**

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"McGonagall is holding a meeting at five. She asks that you be there," the rough voice of Rubeus Hagrid informed her. It was ten in the morning and Fleur was holding a cup of coffee, leaning against the doorjamb and looking up at the half-giant delivering the message.

"Thank you Hagrid. I will make sure I am present," she replied smiling at him. He grunted in response and walked off, leaving Fleur to fret about the meeting.

Fleur walked back into her house slowly, shutting the door and leaning against it for a minute. Sleep had been elusive at best the night before, leaving her feeling heavy headed and lethargic. She made her way into the kitchen and sat down at the table, nursing her cup of coffee. Each drink she took of it sent a ripple of warmth and strength through her, the caffeine shooting energy through her veins.

Fleur stared vacantly at the table in front of her, the one thought—person—that kept her from sleep haunting her waking moments as well. She blew out air through her lips and ran a hand through her hair. It wasn't like her to let her thoughts take control and turn her into an emotional wreck. In fact, it wasn't like Fleur at all to be behaving the way she was. She was known to take things in stride, to wear a winning smile and to be strong. On the other hand, it wasn't often that she was left alone to her thoughts.

A soft sigh escaped her as she pushed her chair back from the table. If she didn't do something until five o'clock post meridian she would drown in a pool of self-pity—a condition she was hell-bent on preventing.

A trip to Hogsmeade was exactly what she needed.

With a burst of energy that new purposes often bring, Fleur got up and put her now empty cup (where had all the coffee gone?) in the sink. The same energy got her cleaned up, dressed and stepping out the door before she realized what was happening. The world outside her comfortable home was cool but beautifully lit by the sun. Fleur wondered briefly why the weather in England was so odd, but she didn't dwell on it for long. Instead gazing at the beautiful scenery for a moment before going on her way.

Her feet carried her to the main gates of Hogwarts and beyond, stopping only where it was safe to apparate. Once there she incited the sick feeling that apparation always brought on. Within moments she was in Hogsmeade, a slight smile on her face. Although she was still feeling the effects of apparation (she could never get used to the feeling), being out put her in a good mood.

Fleur glanced about her for a few moments before deciding on her first destination—Gladrags Wizardwear. The Frenchwoman had never really taken the time to tour Hogsmeade due to the war and the fact that she didn't know it existed until she came to England—during the war. The only place she knew somewhat well was The Three Broomsticks Inn.

Fleur wandered through the stores in Hogsmeade slowly, intrigued by the English styles and attitudes, so different from the French. Around people she was in her element, she was confident, charming and irresistible (mostly due to the fact that she was part veela). While she usually despised the vacant looks she received from those under her thrall, her vanity basked in it that day. A last-ditch effort to make herself feel better about being alone and out of luck.

Eventually, around two in the afternoon, Fleur walked into the one place she hadn't visited, The Three Broomsticks. She stood in the doorway for a moment, slightly overwhelmed by the noise and the people that occupied the pub. For a split second of that moment she saw herself from their eyes, a beautiful (clean) woman in a pub mostly filled with unclean men. So of course, all eyes had turned to her upon her entrance. Biting her lip to keep from laughing hysterically at the irony of it all, she walked to a free spot at the bar.

"Well look who it is. I haven't seen your shining face around her in quite a while," the rich voice of Madam Rosmerta greeted her.

Fleur smiled in response, "And now I'm here."

Rosmerta handed her a glass of wine and grinned before going to help another person. Fleur had never really known what to think of the owner of the inn. In the few times she had been there, the two had talked and had become acquaintances (not quite friends), but Fleur had always felt a little shy around the boisterous woman.

"I heard you accepted the job at Hogwarts," the woman said as she came back to help a customer sitting near Fleur.

"News travels fast," Fleur took a sip of the wine and sighed, relishing the taste.

"A sad fact of life." the older woman's voice was dry, "What made you decide to do it?" curiosity replaced the sarcasm in her voice. But before Fleur could answer a man called for Rosmerta, drawing her away. Fleur looked after her for a minute thoughtfully, grateful for the interruption. She wondered if she should be having this conversation with a woman she barely knew.

The benefits of the conversation would be that she would potentially have a new friend, she would experience the relief of having told someone something and it would be a good way to pass the time. On the other hand she would be speaking to a woman she barely knew in a crowded pub where anyone could overhear. Fleur's eyes narrowed as she thought of what to do, knowing she was thinking just a little too much on the subject.

"So?" Fleur panicked at the sound of Rosmerta's voice and tried to smile charmingly.

"A story for another time," she said regretfully, ducking her head. Rosmerta laughed and shrugged.

"If you say so." She said before going back to work. Fleur mentally slapped herself, cursing the uncharacteristic shyness inspired by the older woman. She took another sip of the wine to try to calm her nerves. Mid-swallow a woman sat down next to her, her long wavy brown hair looking strangely familiar.

The blonde choked and began coughing violently. Rosmerta rushed over and the woman next to her turned in concern as well.

"Fleur!" the disbelieving voice could belong to only one person.

Hermione Jean Granger.

Rosmerta handed her a glass of water, "Drink," she ordered. Fleur obeyed, very aware that her face had gone red and Hermione was staring at her in disbelief. After a few more harsh coughs, Fleur managed to regain her breath and her dignity.

"Mademoiselle Granger, what a surprise," she rasped, grimacing at the sound of her voice. Rosmerta glanced between the two of them with a raised eyebrow, obviously interested in where the confrontation would lead.

"Obviously. What are you doing here Fleur?" straightforward as always, a trait that Fleur had always loved about the younger girl. Her forwardness, her stubborn attitude, the way the light her perfect hair….

"I could ask the same, I wasn't aware you frequented The Three Broomsticks," Fleur replied archly, deliberately avoiding the actual, bigger question and trying to push inappropriate thoughts about the girl next to her aside.

The brunette gave her a sour look, "I meant Hogsmeade, England even. What are you doing here?" Hermione was definitely trying to get straight to the point of Fleur's sudden appearance. She smiled inwardly at the inexplicable fierceness behind Hermione's question. It was no secret that Hermione tended to dislike Fleur, although the older woman knew there was some grudging respect there due to the events at Shell Cottage. However, it didn't stop her from thinking that Hermione was beautiful even when disliking her.

"I have a job here," came her airy reply as she turned to face front. She missed Hermione's eye roll, although she did hear the exasperated sigh.

"Fine, don't tell me," Hermione muttered, also facing front. Fleur couldn't help but wonder with some amusement at what would happen when the other girl found out why she was really there. She knew it wouldn't be at all amusing when the actual moment came around, especially due to the awkward tension currently pervading the area, but she would worry about that later.

A few minutes passed with Fleur fidgeting and trying to figure out what to say to the other girl who seemed to be just as fidgety.

Fleur cleared her throat, "What brings you here?" she asked, glancing sideways at Hermione. Their eyes met for barely a split second before the brunette looked away.

"I'm going to be working at Hogwarts," came the absent reply. With Hermione looking away, Fleur took the opportunity to look at her openly. She was so beautiful, so frustrating beautiful. She had changed since the last time they had seen each other. Her hair had gotten longer, less curly and more wavy, tamed by a potion most likely. Her slim body had all the right curves and her clothes fit her perfectly.

Fleur half expected Rosmerta to hand her a napkin to wipe the drool off her face. A strangled sound (laugh) escaped her at the thought and Hermione's head whipped around. Fleur grinned at her, unabashed—outwardly.

"Fascinating, what will you be teaching?" Fleur asked, her voice taking on silkiness with the false confidence she was projecting.

"Transfiguration," was the short reply.

"Why do you dislike me so?" Fleur asked suddenly after the pause that had come about after the last answer. She was curious and fed up with not knowing why the woman she loved hated her so much.

Hermione's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to reply. However, it closed shortly after and she looked down, appearing conflicted.

The blonde smiled sadly and stood up, laying a bill down for the wine, "Let me know when you figure it out. I'd really like for you not to hate me," especially since we will be working together (in a sense), Fleur added silently before walking out.

She wasn't quite sure what had prompted her to ask that question. It wasn't one she was planning on; then again, the whole encounter was unexpected. However, she felt very calm even though she had just suddenly encountered the one person she had been avoiding for quite a while.

Not for the first time, Fleur was happy she could handle herself well under stress and unusual circumstances. Her mother had taught her well in the art of being poised in all types of situations. So, while she might have been shaking, nervous and tense inwardly, while talking to Hermione it had not been outwardly obvious.

The sick feeling of apparation came and went as Fleur sunk deeper into her thoughts. It had all happened so fast, faster than Fleur had wanted and not quite the same way she had imagined for their first encounter in so long.

Before she knew it, she was at her front door, unlocking it and stepping inside. She managed to make it to the armchair before a wave of exhaustion hit her like an oncoming truck. Fleur sunk into the chair, all strength in her legs gone for the moment. A deep breath steadied her—a little—and she closed her eyes. It was hard to pinpoint where exactly she had started getting to be so tired. It seemed like even some simple tasks were getting to be hard to do. Of course, she had also apparated twice, which was now beginning to sap her strength like never before.

Sleep tugged at her, promising an escape from thoughts and weariness. Fleur fought to stay awake, knowing that the meeting was fast approaching. However, the battle was lost before it had really started.

Fleur drifted off, dreaming of long wavy brown hair and glaring brown eyes. It wasn't fair that the brunette had taken over every part of Fleur's life. It wasn't fair that she wasn't able to think on other things for very long. But life often—never it seemed—wasn't fair and the blonde wasn't going to let that ruin her life. She wasn't going to be a victim of the way life and destiny decided they wanted to treat her.

The French witch awoke with a start an hour and fifteen minutes later, wide-eyed and panicked. A quick glance at the clock told her she needed to have been out the door twenty minutes earlier. Cursing under her breath, Fleur fixed her appearance to the best of her ability and raced out the door. The walk up to the main building was not long, nor was it arduous, however it still left her out of breath and shaky by the time she reached her destination.

Trying to be inconspicuous, Fleur opened the door slowly. Unfortunately the door had other plans and creaked loudly both upon being opened and closed. She groaned mentally and wished all hell to break loose upon the inanimate object that had caused her to make such an ostentatious entrance.

The entire room full of professional witches and wizards turned to look at her. Some with awe, some with amusement, one with concern, one with irritation and one with what looked like intense disgust, dislike and surprise. The hardest one for her to face being the last of the many looks.

Fleur cleared her throat and smiled sheepishly, "Please excuse my lateness," she murmured to the headmistress before finding a seat next to Professor Flitwick.

"As I was saying, I wanted to welcome all of you to the Hogwarts staff once more. This is the full staff now that Ms. Delacour has decided to join us," (a pointed glance at Fleur, causing her to shift in embarrassment.) "However, this meeting was also called to deliver a warning. While the war has been over for a year, and the Aurors have been tracking down all the remaining Death Eaters, there is still a danger. They are particularly aggressive towards Hogwarts and any people connected with the school. While I'm not saying this will happen, it is possible that they will attack you or the students at Hogsmeade or wherever they get the chance. You _must_ report any incidences and ensure that you and the students are safe. Am I clear?"

There was a murmured agreement and McGonagall nodded, continuing briskly, "I am going to be pairing up each of the professors in teams. As a team you will be doing patrols, escorting students to Hogsmeade and other locations as well as whatever defense actions are needed. As time goes on it will be more evident what you will be needing to do in pairs, groups or separately…"

Fleur felt sick, the minute McGonagall had said the word she hadn't been able to stop thinking about what idiotic joke the older woman was playing on her. She knew, in her gut, who her "team-mate" would be, and neither of them was going to be very happy with it. Although Fleur would also be the first to admit she wouldn't mind it _that_ much. Why McGonagall was doing it was beyond her. Why she was choosing to torture Fleur this way was a mystery, one that she would uncover soon—if she managed to survive a certain brunette's death glares.

The meeting ended soon after that, with a promise from the headmistress to let them know who there "partners" were by the end of the day. As they all got up to leave, Fleur caught McGonagall's eye and caught the other woman's wink. Her answering smile was slightly strained and she hoped it wasn't noticeable.

As Fleur walked out a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the general direction of the other staff. Panicked, she whipped out her wand (all while internally suppressing a scream) and pointed it at her "attacker".

"Oh put that away, I'm not going to hurt you," the 'though I want to' was understood, Fleur thought with bitter amusement. Her assailant was no more than the one person she wanted—and didn't want—to see.

"Surprised?" Fluer asked mildly, putting her wand away and pulling her arm out of Hermione's astonishingly strong grip.

"A bit," her tone was acidic and Fleur resisted the urge to flinch.

"Well, I work here now and I don't feel like quitting," she shrugged nonchalantly, easily portraying exactly what she did not feel.

Hermione looked miffed, yet still angry, "I'm not telling you to quit, but why didn't you tell me? Why didn't McGonagall tell me for that matter?" The last part was said mainly to herself, and she looked away for a moment.

"Why do you care so much?" Fleur asked, a quiet curiosity lacing her words. Hermione looked up at her again, defiance and anger still apparent.

"Because I'm not sure I would have taken the job," her voice was blunt and with that she walked off.

She walked off, leaving Fleur to stand there like a dumbstruck idiot, the sentence repeating in her head over and over. It was a hard blow to take and she knew it would bruise for a while.

When did life become so complicated?


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